She Dreams
by Gemini Dream
Summary: She has always had dreams. She dreams of fast freedom, sunshine and escapism.


_Disclaimer_: Don't own Final Fantasy VIII.

**She Dreams**

She dreams of fast freedom, sunshine and escapism. Not the fairy-tales, full of dashing knights and daring rescues, but the pirates and cowboys. Those who created their own futures. Made their own choices. Lived life free of constraints.

And she would lean over the edge of the boat, daring herself to go further, the sea-spray cool and refreshing on her face. And she would laugh as she pulled back, her hair in disarray, staring with a smile at the horizon. Her weapon tucked safely at her side, uniform crumpled, her mind back on the mission ahead of her. An exam. And she has to pass it.

She dreams of grandiose stages, music and beauty. The creative license and chance to shine, not in her work, but in her hobbies. The smiles on the faces of others. Their joy. Their laughter. Enjoying what entertainment she can provide for them.

And she would walk around the quad, a clipboard or notebook in one hand, chewing on the end of a pen, laying out the new stage. The dance floor. The buffet. The band. And in her mind it looks so perfect. And in her mind she's already making up the lists. The catering. The technicians. The musicians. And she knows who she can convince to help her, the perfect candidate for her partner in crime. Until she hears the announcement over the radio and is pulled back, and remembers the card in her pocket, her rank and the commander issuing orders. Now.

She dreams of moonlit dancing, campfires and secrets. A deserted beach. The feeling of sand between her toes and the crackling firewood. Laughter drifting on the night air. Carefree and flying free. A firefly burning so brightly in the darkness.

And she would stand outside the ruins and look out across the beach where they had played. Pranks and all. She smiles and starts down the worn-out steps, light-footed and young. And she half-thinks of asking him to dance with her - he was usually up for anything when they were little, maybe he still would be, just for old times sake. Yet she stops when she hears him saying that everyone is leaving. So she turns around and walks back. An echo of fireworks dissipating into the cool afternoon air. The tide washing it all away.

She dreams of endless peace, safety and love. Anything away from this desolate, war-torn battlefield. She's lost count of the number of dead bodies they have seen, the monstrous beasts, and averts her eyes from the castle they are walking towards. The one place no one would want to be, no one should choose to be.

But still she would smile and hide her fears. All-too-happy and all-too-cheerful. She has to laugh or else she'd scream. She has to stand on her own two feet else fall to her knees and refuse to get up. Yet he would always be just a few feet away should she falter, a grin and a tip of the hat to let her know he knew. She dreamt of music and freedom and dancing. Yet she chose Garden and SeeD and war. She had grown up fierce, a tomboy in a summer dress. She fought for her friends, her life, her dreams.

She has nightmares about those days. They all do. And she will wake up some mornings and the alarm clock will sound like gunfire and air will be too thick to breathe. And she will look in the mirror and a stranger will look back. And she will not leave her room until she can smile, until she knows she can reassure everyone that she is just fine. That they are all fine. It will all work out in the end.

And she will wear her uniform and organise her festivals. She will deal with the relations with Esthar that their commander is so reluctant to take up. And she will not report the ex-student sneaking back home. She will be who she has always been.

And when the day is done, and the work is done, and the week is over. When the uniform has been hung up and the weapons locked away, all she takes is her keys and her purse.

One ticket out of this place on the fastest train she can find.

She dreams of sunshine and secrets and safety, not of fairy-tales or rules and regulations. She knows what's real as she runs down the worn-out stairs, slipping on rocks, the tomboy in the summer dress. And she can hear the forgotten laughter of her early years, smell the firewood and taste the fresh sea air.

She left her shoes, her keys, her purse lying in the rubble.

He had declined his rank and card, he had no uniform asides from his tell-tale coat and cowboy hat to explain who he was, and had been. Both were abandoned, tossed down beside the fire as he looked out towards the sea, turning in time to catch her, to spin her round until she is dizzy and crying from laughter.

And she talks and he listens; to dreams, nightmares and insignificant observations.

She dreamt of stages; so he gave her a band, technicians and Fisherman's Horizon to perform at.

She dreamt of dancing; so he found a tape player, a mix from her friends and asked her to dance.

She dreamt of freedom; so he returned to the beginning, called in a favour and sent her a ticket.

She dreams of peace. So he shows her the return ticket - back to her job - and throws it in the fire.

She can't quite believe what he's just done, but all he asks is whether she has anymore dreams, because he has all the time in the world to fulfil them.

And she has to ask, as she watches the ticket burn, doesn't he have any dreams?

Just one, is his reply, that she smile. And mean it. Her smile is all he needs.

She dreams that he would kiss her, and he's all too happy to make that dream come true.

She dreams of freedom and cowboys.

And she now has both.


End file.
